


The Sharp Corners of My Heart

by alabasterclouds



Series: My Two Gay Dads [4]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Accidents, Age Play, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Issues, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Non-Sexual Age Play, Spanking, Temper Tantrums, Thumb-sucking, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 04:58:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18866176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alabasterclouds/pseuds/alabasterclouds
Summary: As Jake and Amy settle into getting used to each other's Little lifestyle, Jake finds himself jealous of the attention Amy's getting from Holt and Kevin that he thought was solely his. He starts to act out in order to get attention, and Holt must figure out a way to get to the bottom of Jake's issues and restore harmony in his relationship with both little ones.Notes: People have been asking me for a little!Jake fic, and I've been asked about a spanking fic, too, so here's one with both! I just love how sensitive Jake is on the show, and I know he's got an entire inner life going on with a lot of things left unsaid until they come exploding out. I am really looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this one!Warning: As always, this is ageplay. Please read the tags carefully and click at your own risk! Thanks.





	The Sharp Corners of My Heart

"Jake, stop it!"

Amy's voice echoed through the cavernous brownstone to the kitchen, where Kevin and Holt were preparing dinner for everyone. Jake and Amy had decided to stay over the long Memorial Day weekend, and Holt had been secretly pleased, telling Kevin that he was looking forward to some time letting both little ones just be little. It had been a stressful few weeks at work, with a lot of cases that had Jake up til all hours, poring over evidence and trying to find leads. Amy had been up to her ears in paperwork, and consequently both of them had been a little more prickly with each other; a little more likely to fight and pick at each other's faults. 

Amy had come to Holt yesterday, teary and exhausted, and after ten minutes or so cuddled on his lap in a sad, damp little mess of tears and complaining, Holt had given her a long cuddle and told her he'd sort something out for the weekend. In his mind, it meant a lot of naps and relaxation time for Jake and Amy; however, they had had other ideas - namely, Jake had had other ideas.

Holt raised his head, feeling a little weary already, and caught Kevin's sardonic eye as he chopped vegetables for the stir-fry they were making.

"What?"

"Nothing," replied Kevin, carefully avoiding Holt's direct gaze and adding the veggies to the oil sizzling in the large pan. "I said absolutely nothing."

"It's not what you said, Kevin, it's what you're implying. You'd best just come out with it, because I'm sure I don't have energy for these games."

"Well," said Kevin, stirring the mixture carefully, and then coming over to put his arms around Holt and lean against his broad back as Holt chopped up chicken, "I just remember when our long weekends were, well, long. And relaxing. And not filled with fractious subordinates from your work . . ."

Holt finished adding the meat to the pan and washed his hands carefully, turning around to playfully flick water at Kevin, who retaliated by swatting Holt's behind with a dish towel. "Are you saying you don't think that having Jake and Amy here will be relaxing?"

"Well, not as such," Kevin hedged, and smiled fondly at his husband. "I mean, of course I like having them here. They do add some liveliness to our days." He gave Cheddar a cooked piece of chicken, smiling as the little corgi sat up and begged for more. "That's enough for you, sir."

"Oh, he can have one more," said Holt, tossing the dog another piece. "He's not had much of anything at all today."

"You're going to make him fat," scolded Kevin, but stroked Cheddar's head and winked at Holt. "Anyway, your little guests . . ."

As he spoke, there was another crash from the study and a sudden angry wail. "Jake! I told you to stop, I swear to God, if you do it again I'll make sure your arm is broken for good!"

"As if," came Jake's voice. "You couldn't even break a piece of wood when we did martial arts at the Academy."

"I'm stronger than I look," came Amy's voice again, and Holt rolled his eyes. 

"I'll go and deal with them. Can you finish up here?"

"Of course," Kevin replied, smiling at Holt. "Please make sure they're not tearing up the carpets in there. We did just get them cleaned."

"Aye-aye," was Holt's rejoinder, and he kissed Kevin's cheek as he left the room. Heading down the hall, he thought again about Jake and Amy and their completely opposite personalities sometimes. Amy wanted to be doing something productive - a puzzle, or drawing, or trying to figure something out. She liked to be read to, and she liked to snuggle and be told that she was good, and smart, and that Holt was proud of her. In her own way, Amy needed just as much reassurance as Jake did - but she tended to act out less, wanting always to please. She was so much littler than Jake was, thought Holt as he straightened the umbrella stand by the door on his way to the study. He was sure once he got into the room that she would let him know she needed changing and cuddling. He was always glad to oblige; there was very little he could resist about Amy's large, pleading dark eyes. _Sucker_ , he thought to himself.

But Jake was completely different. Impulsive and determined to convince everyone he was big and strong and capable, Jake was more likely to want to do something active or be given something active to work out. He was incredibly smart and very sharp, but he rarely wanted or needed to be cuddled; maybe just before bed. He and Amy often fought over what movies to watch, because Jake always wanted action films, while Amy wanted more in-depth dramas or romances. Jake didn't have much time to be read to and he definitely liked to insist he didn't need to even wear diapers to bed (though he did, thought Holt; he'd fallen for that exactly once and had woken up to a wet little shivering boy at his and Kevin's bedside, trying to stifle tears). And while Amy was quite communicative of her needs and often of Jake's needs, much to Jake's chagrin, Jake was more likely to let things go way too long and be very upset before he admitted he needed anything. And then of course there was his jealous streak.

As Holt pushed open the door to his study, he reflected for a moment on how attention-seeking Jake had been lately. It was something he'd been meaning to talk to Kevin about - he wanted to sit down with just Jake, maybe while Amy was napping, to discuss his recent acting out and tantrums. He was becoming hard to be around, and Holt was smart enough to know that there was something behind it all. 

But he had no time to reflect further before Amy was in front of him, tear-stains on her cheeks, her big dark eyes brimming with frustration and resentment. "Papa, Jake won't stop throwing the puzzle pieces! I'm almost done, and then he throws them and won't help me find them." She looked really hurt, and Holt couldn't help pulling her close and giving her a big hug. Amy was sometimes a little too obsessed with fairness, but in this case, he could well understand her confusion over her boyfriend deliberately trying to make her life harder.

As he cuddled Amy close, she stretched up and whispered something in his ear, then flushed a little as she hid her face in his polo shirt. Holt hid a smile. Amy was like clockwork - every two and a half hours, she needed a diaper change. He patted her bottom soothingly, but also to check how wet she was - he wanted to speak to Jake first before taking her upstairs to change her.

Her bottom was pretty squishy. She flushed even deeper and pressed her face into his shoulder shyly. Diaper checks were something Amy had said that she kind of liked - they made her feel safe - but she was still so adorably embarrassed every time Holt checked her.

"Okay, princess. Give me five minutes and I'll take care of that wet diaper for you, all right?" He kissed the top of her head, gently tweaked her long dark ponytail, and turned his attention to Jake, who was nonchalantly playing with a LEGO set and ignoring both Amy and Holt. He looked up with a winning smile once Holt cleared his throat warningly.

"Hi, Captain."

Holt wasn't falling for it. "I've been hearing a bit of a ruckus in here for the past twenty minutes. You wouldn't be the cause of that, would you, Peralta?"

"Of course not," said Jake, snapping a few pieces of LEGO together. "I'm just building over here. Nothing doing."

"Mm-hmm. Did you want to tell me why Amy looks like she's been crying? You wouldn't know anything about that, either, I suppose?"

"Maybe she hurt herself?" Jake offered, fumbling around beside him and handing Amy her yellow duck-printed pacifier, which Amy immediately popped into her mouth. "Or she might have lost this?"

"Lost it, or you took it from her? You're not being mean to her, are you? She's littler than you are," Holt reproved him gravely. Jake's face fell just a little bit at that, but he recovered quickly. 

"Not on purpose. If she's being sensitive, I'm not sure that's _my_ problem."

"Hmm." Holt rubbed Amy's back soothingly and secretly delighted in the way the little one snuggled into him, laying her head on his shoulder. He could tell Amy was tired - she'd worked an early shift and had been off a few hours before Jake and Holt had been finished - but he doubted she'd taken a nap as he'd bade her to do. She had been as bright-eyed as ever when she'd arrived a few minutes after Jake and Holt had driven in after work for their weekend together, and Holt could tell that the early morning was catching up with her.

Meeting Jake's eyes, Holt could see distinct jealousy written all over his face. But as fast as it had appeared, Jake's face smoothed out into its usual neutral expression. "Well, you'd better go and change her diaper before dinner, hadn't you?" Jake took great pleasure in trying to take charge, a personality quirk of his that Holt sometimes struggled with - he found it extremely irritating when Jake tried to boss everyone around.

"Not so fast, little man. Stand up, please." Holt didn't trust Jake as far as he could throw him. "Pants check time."

Now Jake looked annoyed. "I'm _not_ wet, Papa," he muttered. "I don't wet my pants, remember?"

"It doesn't matter. It's not a request, Jake." Holt said nothing else, but he could feel Amy pricking up her ears. She knew as well as he did that Jake had been having a few issues with bladder control lately. Holt knew exactly why it was happening - but Jake didn't seem ready to admit it yet.

No matter. Holt was nothing if not consistent. He fixed his direct gaze on Jake, who squirmed uncomfortably, trying to ignore Holt. "Jake. I gave you an order."

"Is it an order when we're not at work, though?" mused Jake quietly, but at Holt's heavy hand on his shoulder, he scowled. "Okay, okay." 

He obediently stood up, revealing a fair-sized wet spot on the front of his jeans. Amy, from Holt's arms, suddenly breathed in sharply, but Holt gave her a meaningful squeeze and she kept quiet. Holt looked at Jake steadily.

"Jake, did you have a bit of an accident?"

"No . . ." Jake's eyes roved everywhere but never once rested on Holt and Amy. "I don't know what happened."

"Hmm. I'm not sure that's entirely the truth, is it, little man?" Holt reached out a hand for Jake. "Come on. Let's get you out of those damp pants and then we can eat. I'm sure you're both hungry. I can practically hear Jake's stomach rumbling," he said with a hint of fondness in his voice, reaching out to tickle Jake's tummy. A ghost of a smile crossed Jake's face before he scowled again.

"I don't need to change. I'm fine."

"Jake." Holt was starting to feel a bit tired. "Come upstairs. Now."

"Amy's the one that pees her pants. Go change her. I'm fine." Jake sat down again, this time with his back to Holt and Amy. He picked up his LEGOs again, but Holt quietly took him by the wrist and gave him a gentle squeeze. Jake reluctantly dropped them, but not before looking at Amy to see if his comment garnered a reaction. She just turned her head away from him. She knew who was winning here. Holt sighed.

"Jake. I won't ask again. I'm not sure what's gotten into you today."

Jake's lower lip suddenly jutted out in a very uncharacteristic pout, but he didn't say anything. He just got up and followed Holt and Amy up the stairs. Kevin appeared at the bottom.

"Almost ready?"

"Just taking these two to freshen up a little. Five minutes," replied Holt, and shepherded the little ones up to the second floor. Kevin watched from the bottom of the stairs, looking a bit confused, but he nodded and returned to the kitchen area, probably to serve up the food, which smelled divine. Amy sniffed the air and smiled. 

"I'm so hungry, Papa."

"Well, we'll get through your change quickly, then. Jake, do you prefer to pick out new pants and undies yourself, or did you need some assistance?" Holt looked over his shoulder at Jake, who was scowling at his feet as he trudged up the stairs.

"I'm big enough to do it on my own. I'm _always_ big enough."

"Okay," said Holt, choosing not to die on that hill with Jake. "I'll be in the bedroom with Amy, then. Come and join us when you're finished."

He made quick work of Amy's diaper change - she usually was a helpful participant, but today she simply popped her paci into her mouth and let him wipe her down and re-diaper her without a word. Holt guessed she was tireder than he thought originally. She usually wore pull-ups, but she'd been wanting to wear full diapers recently while she visited, and he hadn't had any objection. She was a bit easier to change, being honest, when he didn't have to have her stand up and step into the pull-ups, which sometimes tangled a bit around her ankles.

Just as he finished taping up Amy's diaper, Jake came in, wearing a pair of dry grey sweats instead of his jeans. He looked tired, too, Holt noted. It would be early to bed for both little ones tonight.

"Kevin's made his famous chicken stir-fry," he told Jake and Amy as he headed into the ensuite bathroom to wash his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he was happy to see Jake hugging Amy to him sweetly and kissing the top of her head. She smiled and snuggled into him. He could be such a little brat, thought Holt, but he was so affectionate with his girlfriend, even when they were little. It was nice to see.

"Jake, go potty before dinner, please, and both of you wash your hands," directed Holt as he came out of the bathroom. Jake shook his head irritably. _As expected_ , thought Holt, and inwardly rolled his eyes.

"Jake. Please."

Amy nudged Jake, and he sighed loudly. "I don't have to go! I'll wash my hands. Come on, Amy," he said, and pulled her into the bathroom behind him, slamming on the water with a little more force than necessary. Holt took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I'll be downstairs, then. Come down when you're ready."

As he descended the stairs, Holt suddenly had doubts about having both Jake and Amy here for the weekend, especially when Jake was in this mood. He hoped they all survived it.

//~//

Jake followed Amy down the stairs, trying to ignore her concerned and pointed expressions as he did so. He knew he was acting up. She didn't need to remind him of the fact, and "Amysplaining" when Amy was little was even worse than usual. Jake wanted to avoid one of her patented lectures at all costs.

Jake felt all mixed up inside. It wasn't that he _wanted_ to be a brat - it was more that he didn't know what he wanted. It had been a long week, and he was feeling more on edge than usual. Everything felt like too much - and even Holt's attention felt like the wrong kind. He just wanted someone to know what he wanted - but it was hard when he didn't even know what he wanted, himself.

They went into the dining room, where Kevin had set out steaming plates of stir-fry and rice. Amy excitedly sat down and bounced in her chair, beaming at Kevin. "I can't wait to try it!" she squealed, and Kevin's face creased in a fond expression.

"Well, princess, as soon as everyone sits down, you'll have that very chance." He shook out Amy's napkin for her and spread it over her lap. "I'm wondering if we should put on your bib for this meal. Do you think you can keep your shirt nice and clean?"

"I can be good," she said, but after a minute, she tucked her napkin into her collar. "Maybe to be safe."

"That's a good idea, sweetie," Kevin praised her, and she beamed. Jake felt a modicum of disgust and turned his face away scornfully, but he also felt a lump growing in his throat as he watched Amy giggle sweetly as Kevin chucked her under the chin. 

"How about you, little man?" asked Kevin, turning his attention to Jake, who had flopped unceremoniously into his chair and had just picked up his fork. "Now, Jakey, we wait for everyone to sit down before digging in. You know that."

Kevin picked up Jake's napkin for him, but Jake took it from his hand a little more quickly than necessary. Maybe not enough to be called a _snatch_ , but fast enough that Kevin looked a little surprised, and then slightly hurt. Jake felt bad, and placed the napkin on the table meekly. 

"Can you help me, please?" he asked, his voice contrite, and Kevin's expression smoothed out again. There. He'd made it better. He was good at making it better.

But as he watched Holt sit down and spoon a couple of bites into Amy's mouth and smile at her as she giggled - "It's so _good!_ Kevin is the BEST cook!" - Jake felt the lump in his throat grow bigger and bigger. He pushed his food around his plate, feeling his cheeks grow hot and his eyes blur a little. But he was a big boy. He didn't need to cry about it. There was nothing to cry about. Certainly not because Amy seemed to have both Kevin and Holt's attention, and was so stinking cute, there in her chair with her napkin in her collar and her face smeared a little with lemon sauce from the chicken . . . 

Jake blinked, and a tear dropped into his food. Holt, who seemed to always have one eye on everything imaginable, didn't miss it.

"Jake? Are you doing all right over there, little man? You're not eating very much."

"Not hungry," muttered Jake, though that wasn't true. He was starving. He pushed some chicken to the side and picked at his rice. "I don't like it." 

Also not true. This was one of Jake's favourite meals - especially when Kevin made it. He carefully didn't look at Kevin. He didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Well, if you're not hungry, buddy, you can go back into the study, I guess," said Kevin. "I can take your plate away." He reached for Jake's plate, but Jake suddenly grabbed it before Kevin could take it, spilling a bit of the food onto the pristine tablecloth.

"Jacob." Holt so very rarely used his full name, but when he did, Jake knew he had gone too far. Jake felt his lips push out into a pout, and without meaning to, he shoved his chair back, knocking his glass of water over, soaking the tablecloth.

"Jake!" Amy looked at him in shock. "What is going on?" She sounded shocked, even more so than usual, and Jake felt his face crumple. He quickly covered his face with his hands and stood up. Holt sighed, a long, exhausted sort of sigh, and cleared his throat. 

"Jake, this is why I asked you to go to the potty before dinner. Accidents happen otherwise. You're not in trouble, but I don't want you to ruin the furniture. I don't think that's unreasonable. And I told you that the next time you wet your pants, I'd be putting you in pull-ups for awhile. Do you remember that conversation?"

Jake found himself answering back, his voice choked. "We only had it half an hour ago."

"Well, then I'm not sure why you're allowing this to happen again." 

Jake peeked through his hands to see a baseball-sized spot on his grey sweatpants. "I don't care!" he replied recklessly. "It's not that big of an accident."

"Well, it is when you don't really have daytime accidents, do you, sweetie," said Kevin, his voice low. He usually didn't get this involved in disciplining the little ones - that was Holt's sole department - but Jake knew he was sensitive about keeping his house clean, and deep inside, Jake knew he'd wet on purpose and he wasn't sure why he was acting out so much. Without even realizing it, he let out a sob. To cover it up, he kicked out at a plant nearby. He didn't mean to knock it over - not really - but it wobbled, spilling dirt onto the Persian rug. Kevin inhaled sharply and Holt stood up, clearly at the end of his tether.

"Jake, you and I are going to go into the other room. Amy, it's okay, princess. It's all right. Don't cry," he added, catching sight of Amy's stricken face. They all knew how much Amy hated conflict, especially when she was little. Jake felt horrible. He tried to reach out a hand to her, but she turned away from him, and he felt worse. He let Holt lead him away. The last sight he had of Amy was Kevin cleaning up her face and stroking her hair gently, promising her that he would show her one of his new Classics texts after he cleaned up Jake's mess from dinner.

Holt let Jake go into the study first and closed the door quietly behind him. He sat on the couch and patted the seat beside him, but Jake shook his head. He refused to look at Holt. Instead, he looked up at the paintings on the wall, the wainscoting, anywhere but at Holt's face and into Holt's honest, direct dark gaze.

But Holt quietly leaned forward and gently pulled Jake down. And then he took Jake's hand, rubbing it comfortingly.

"I'm not sure what's going on with you today. I gather it's because we've had a long few weeks, and I know you've had some frustration with the cases you're working on, the Kellerson one in particular."

Jake wanted to snatch his hand away. Holt _didn't_ get it. It wasn't about work. It was about all the feelings swirling inside of him.

He used to be only Holt's. Kevin used to feed _him_ at dinner. And show him his new Classics texts, though Jake wasn't always really interested in those. And Holt used to play LEGOs with him, and help him build all kinds of interesting cities and castles and buildings. And there wasn't Amy there, on Holt's lap, or needing diaper changes, or sucking on her pacifier. She was at home doing her own thing, and Jake had this time with Holt only.

And Jake was angry. He was so mad. He scowled at Holt. "It has nothing to do with work. It has nothing to do with anything." His voice was angry, but Holt didn't look surprised, nor did he react at all. 

"I don't really believe that, Jake."

"I don't care!" Jake turned his back on Holt. "I just want to go to bed."

"No, you don't." Holt's voice held a hint of warmth, now. A little amusement. "It's not even seven-thirty."

Jake grumbled. Holt was right, though. He didn't want to go to bed. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I just don't. Leave me alone." Jake rubbed a fist into his eyes. "And I'm big. I'm a big boy. I don't need pull-ups."

"Well, big boys don't wet their pants." Holt pushed a hand over his silver hair and rumbled a little as he cleared his throat. The comforting rumble made Jake feel calmer, but he refused to budge. Holt reached out and touched Jake gently on his lower back. Jake let him, but he didn't turn around.

"Come on, little man. Come and tell me what's bothering you so much. You don't have to pretend everything's okay when it isn't." Holt's voice was comforting, now. Jake felt his nose start to ache. _Dammit_ , he thought. He hated crying so much.

"No!" He practically yelled it at Holt. "I don't _want_ to."

"Then what do you want, Jake?"

"I'm being bad. Punish me! Do something." Jake realized this was exactly what he wanted. He turned around. "I'm so bad. Kick me out."

"I won't do that." Holt's voice was irritatingly calm. "I don't kick anyone out of my house without a good reason."

"I ruined your tablecloth. And Kevin's plant."

"Those are things that can be fixed." Holt didn't break Jake's gaze, and Jake felt his chin starting to quiver. He rubbed a hand across his eyes in irritation.

"Well . . . well . . . how about this, then?" Jake picked up a small figurine of a corgi and dropped it on the carpet. It didn't smash, but one of the corgi's little legs broke off as it hit the padded carpet. Holt's face still didn't change. He just picked up the figurine and the leg and placed it calmly on the side table.

"That wasn't very nice, Jake, but I'm still not going to kick you out."

Jake scowled, all his emotions rising to the surface, and he kicked at the carpet, then kicked the couch. "I don't like you!"

"That's all right. You don't have to like me all the time."

"I don't like you any time!" Jake felt himself slowly losing control. He picked up a book from the side table and flung it to the floor. "I don't like this, either. Or this." He flung another book, knowing it was one of Holt's favorites, after the first one. They thudded onto the carpet, the pages bending slightly with the force of Jake's throw.

Holt sighed, then, his face tightening just slightly. "Jake. I'm not sure what it is you want from me, little man, but destroying my house isn't going to get us there any faster."

"Well, I don't care. I don't care what you think, you or your shitty house!"

That seemed to cause something to snap in Holt. Jake knew it was one of Holt's buttons - he hated foul language. "Jacob. Watch your language."

"Or what?" 

"Or you'll have to be punished physically. We agreed that you wouldn't use that language in this house."

"Well, maybe you should 'punish me physically', then," said Jake, his voice turning mocking, high and awful. "I don't care what you do."

Holt just stared at him for a few moments, as if he was wondering if Jake really meant it. And suddenly, it was all Jake wanted. 

"Do it, you . . . you . . . stupid," he snapped, and quick as a flash, Holt had Jake over his knee, pulling down his damp grey pants and his boxers, which were a lot wetter than Jake had let on. He'd been slowly leaking for the past twenty minutes, and he didn't care. It was warm and secret and finally, finally Holt was actually paying attention to him. Him, and him alone.

Holt's voice was still calm. "How many do you think you deserve for being such a bad boy today?"

"I don't care," whimpered Jake. "You can't hurt me."

"This isn't about hurting you, Jake. This is about teaching you a lesson. I think ten."

"Ten!"

"Ten." Holt slapped Jake's ass sharply. "Count."

"I don't want to count!"

"Then it'll be twenty. Are you going to listen or are we going to have to be here all night until you're willing to learn?"

Jake let out a sob, feeling his emotions rising up into his throat and loosening in his chest. "Fine. One."

"No," said Holt, pausing a moment, and then bringing his hand sharply down on Jake's bottom with a resounding crack that Jake was sure could be heard in the dining room. "That was one."

"One!" Jake yelped. He resisted the urge to cover his ass with his hands. Damn, but it stung like hell!

Holt slapped him again. "Two," Jake whimpered. He squirmed on Holt's lap. "I'm a bad boy."

"You are today," agreed Holt. His hand made contact with Jake's ass three times. "How many was that?"

"Five!"

"Five more, baby boy, then we're done." Holt systematically began to spank him, a softer one followed by a quick, hard, ass-ringing slap that Jake swore echoed off the wainscoting in the study and around the ceiling. He squirmed and began to cry, hearing his sobs tumble out one after another, harshly in the ringing silence of the room. 

"Does that hurt?" asked Holt quietly.

"It hurts, Papa. It hurts so much," Jake said, and without meaning to, covered his red, stinging ass. "I don't need any more spankings. I'm a good boy now."

"I don't think so," said Holt. He pushed Jake's hands away and smacked first his left cheek, then his right cheek, then the tops of both thighs. The sting was incredible. "How many was that?"

"Uh . . . I don't know, Papa. I don't know!"

"It was nine. And because you lost count, it's going to be eleven." Holt slapped Jake's ass sharply twice more, so hard that Jake felt stars explode in front of his eyes. He wailed and tried to cover his ass, but Holt pushed his hands away and then Jake felt his whole body loosen with the pain. A sudden warmth suffused his groin and he hung limply over Holt's lap, sobbing as if his heart was breaking.

Maybe his heart was actually breaking.

Holt rubbed Jake's sore bottom quietly and then gently helped him sit upright on his lap. "Uh-oh, Jake. Looks like you had more than just a little accident, didn't you?"

Jake realized that the dull ache in his bladder that he'd had for the past few hours was gone. He looked down at the wet, bunched up boxers and pants at his crotch and flushed miserably. "I peed my pants. I'm sorry, Papa."

"It's okay, little man." Holt snuggled him close, and Jake rested his head on Holt's shoulder, realizing that Holt was going to have to change, too. "I was a bad boy," he hiccupped, and Holt rubbed his back.

"I don't want to hear that again. You are not a bad boy. You are a very, very good boy, and you're having just a rough day. That's okay." Holt gently pushed Jake off his lap and looked down ruefully at his khakis. "It looks like we both need a shower."

"I want my pajamas," Jake murmured, rubbing the tears out of his eyes. "Tired."

"I know you're so tired," Holt murmured back, and took Jake's hand. "Come on. We'll go up the back stairs. I don't think Kevin needs to know about this. Or Amy, for that matter."

Jake just nodded, and for the first time all night, compliantly followed Holt up the stairs.

//~//

Jake cried some more in the shower. In fact, he cried so much that when he got out, his whole body felt wobbly, like he'd just come off a twenty-four-hour flu or something. His eyes and cheeks were red, and as he towelled off his hair, his chest hitched every so often with the aftermath of his forceful, broken-hearted sobs. His ass stung like hell, but it was an oddly good hurt, like the type of strained-muscle feeling he got after he'd worked really hard taking down a perp on a case.

He wandered into Holt's room. Holt had gotten dressed in an almost identical pair of khakis and put his polo on from before the spanking. But he had laid out Jake's pull-up and his pajamas, and without a word, he helped Jake get into them. Jake felt like protesting about the pull-up, but he realized that it felt good on his sore bottom. He let Holt help him into his pajama shirt, this one printed with police cars. They were his favourites, and when Holt helped him get his arms through the sleeves, he touched Jake's nose playfully, getting the first smile out of Jake all night.

But Holt didn't turn to go downstairs. Instead, he sat down on his bed, and then held his arms open for Jake. This time, Jake didn't hesitate. He came right into them, laying his head on Holt's good-smelling shoulder, feeling even more tears welling in his eyes. Huh. He'd thought he'd cried himself out.

"Now. Can we talk about what's going on, now?" Holt's voice was gentle. "Because you've definitely had a pretty out-of-sorts-day, haven't you?"

Jake nodded against Holt's shoulder. He sighed a bit shakily, and Holt rubbed his back. 

"Is this still about Amy?"

"You think she's cuter than me. You like her better," whimpered Jake. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "I'm just a bad boy."

"You're not a bad boy at all. And I definitely don't think Amy is cuter than you. I think she's just as cute and sweet as you are. Though I haven't seen my sweet little boy lately, that's for sure." Holt's voice was grave. "I think this has been pretty hard on you, hasn't it, little man?"

Jake nodded again. "I think she's sweet. I love Amy. But you just let her in and you didn't even talk to me. And I waited for you to say something . . . to ask me if it was okay. Because I thought I was just your only little one."

"Did you want to be my only little one?"

"Yeah!" Jake's voice was louder than he intended. "You were _my_ gay dad. You were there for me when I needed you to be. And now I have to wait my turn . . . I always had to wait my turn, always had to wait for someone to notice that I needed someone . . ." His voice broke. "I didn't want to ever have to wait with you."

Holt held Jake close for a few moments, murmuring into his soft curly hair, rubbing his back. "You felt unsafe, didn't you?"

"I didn't think you wanted me anymore. I'm such a brat. I never do what you want." Jake sniffled again, feeling tears sneak down his cheeks. "I'm sorry I was so bad today."

"Now you listen to me." Holt stroked Jake's hair soothingly. "You are always safe here. You are always wanted here. Amy might be here too, but there is always, always room for Jake, understand?" He gave Jake an uncharacteristic soft smile. "You are always safe with me."

Jake laid his head on Holt's shoulder. "Promise?"

Holt bowed his head into Jake's hair and nodded. "I promise."


End file.
